Misshapen Endeavors
by Lament of Meow
Summary: Enjoying a night off, Prowl and Jazz are abruptly interrupted by a crash-landing ship that holds a new alien race that no one's ever met before. Their biggest clue to the origins of this new species, however, seems to be this strange blue box...Prowl/Jazz
1. Mechs, Interrupted

This fic was spawned thanks to several people and their amazingly magnificent and bunny-inducing crossover fics. Namely Chapter 6 of CasusFere's Through Fire and Flame where there was a spectacular mushing of Alien and Transformers and Stormy1x2's Unlikely Partners, a absolutely fantastic TMNT/Transformers fanfic.

So really, this is what my mind spewed forth when provided with these wondrous pieces as examples and sorry if it ends up being lower quality. The bunny bit me and it's 4 am and I just really want to hit the sack now. Gah. At least it's a weekend!

The pairings (except for the ones mentioned) are pretty much up for grabs at the moment because I'm not really sure where I'm going to be going with this so...I've only got _really_ vague ideas, which means this story's updating is going to be sketchy at best. I'm sorry for that, but I hope you'll still get at least a little enjoyment from it.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.

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When Prowl had let Jazz convince him to take the night off, he had been under the impression that the impromptu break had been for something hot, steamy, and decidedly CPU-numbingly enjoyable.

Instead it was all about _stars_.

Prowl spared another nanosecond to curse the damned little balls of gas that dared, as only unholy creations of distracting evil could do, sidetrack his lover from the love that they should, by all rights and deviously vacant-of-any-other-Autbot area demanded, be making _right now_.

"They sure are pretty, huh Prowler?" Jazz sighed softly, his intakes brushing a breeze across Prowl's shoulder strut that he was leaning against. The soft puff of air was warmer than the cool night air around them after having been circulated throughout the mech's body and Prowl could feel it ghost lightly over his doorwings. He was unable to completely stop the reflexive flutter—the stimulus was a pleasant one, even more so when following on the heels of his previous train of thought.

"Yes—I've always found distant flaming orbs of gas that could, and most likely have already, burst in upon themselves and died out over thousands of years ago extremely relaxing. Really perks up my mood when I'm feeling down, it does." Prowl replied with just a slight undercurrent of cynicism.

Jazz laughed softly, the air once again reducing Prowl to a small shiver, "Pfft. Some romantic you are."

"If you wanted a romantic mech, you should've seduced Mirage instead. I'm sure he'd be quite able to wax poetic for you." Prowl said dryly. A slight breeze flew up from the wide meadow before them and Prowl absentmindedly bent a wing over the saboteur at his side, slightly shielding the smaller mech from the cold wind.

"Because Mirage is absolutely everything I've ever wanted in a bot." Jazz agreed, smile clear in his voice. If Prowl had any lingering doubts about their relationship enough to be any kind of jealous over that statement, they were immediately crushed to tiny little pieces as the other black and white snuggled more firmly into his side, tucking himself under Prowl's arm and snaking his own arms around Prowl's middle. Prowl's lips flickered up at the motion and he shifted to make room, laying his arm across the saboteur's shoulders and settling against the snuggling bot that was currently draped over his side.

"Of course! He's rich, good looking, occasionally socially adept…" Prowl drawled into the comfortable silence.

"Not to mention the partner of a _very_ possessive mech who would just as soon skin me alive then let me look twice at his bond-mate." Jazz sniggered into Prowl's chest.

"If you _had_ skin, anyway. And it _is_ surprising how riled up Hound can get about Mirage…" Prowl agreed, leaning back slightly to better stare up at the current sparkling banes of his existence. How the slag did the human's even see a _belt_ better yet the whole _man_ in those blasted pinpricks of evil?

"Not as surprising as Inferno is about Red Alert. The twins were only lucky Ratchet was there that one time they fried Red's circuits enough that he offlined from the stress. Inferno looked like he was going to rip them a new one. Or two. Repeatedly." Jazz chimed, also focusing his optics on the sky. He always loved finding the different animals arranged by the stars, and he spared a small moment of joy as he could just make out Taurus from his position.

Prowl snorted, "It did keep them in line for the next couple of joors, though. Especially once they heard about the whole Starscream fiasco. I think it's the only time I've ever seen either of them look guilty for_ anything_. Particularly anything that was their fault."

"That was a definite added bonus," Jazz agreed, "Plus, Red needed to take a vacation anyway. He deserved some time off."

"Speaking of time off, Jazz…" Prowl trailed off, CPU giving up on making any sense of the mass of unconnecting and uncooperative dots of pure undiluted sparkly malevolence above him. Training his optics on the grinning mech that was now practically in his lap, Prowl glared lightly.

Jazz's grin continued to grow as he twisted his head up to meet the tactician's optics, "Yes? What about it?"

"We seem to have found ourselves with a considerable amount of it on our hands," The tactician said, sliding down on his back into the grass, careful to splay his doorwings to either side of his chassis and not to pinch any of the sensitive wiring. He kept a tight hold on Jazz via the arm he still had over the saboteur's shoulders, dragging the still grinning mech down with him.

"We have, haven't we? But we're in such a secluded space with no other mechs around for about a thirty mile radius! What can we _possibly _find to do all by our lonesomes?" Jazz purred as he cuddled against the side he was pressed against, nuzzling into the wing he was lightly using as a pillow and throwing a leg haphazardly over the tactician's waist, all but spray-painting himself onto his partner's chassis.

"Oh, I'm sure we can think of a few things." Prowl rumbled, running a finger down one of the sensory horns on Jazz's helmet. The saboteur let out a slight gasp before suddenly surging up and sealing his lips over the smirking ones of his partner.

"No fair." Jazz grumbled against Prowl's lips as they broke apart, resting more on top of Prowl now rather than just against him.

"If you get to tease my wings with poorly disguised breathy little whispers then I get full horn caressing privileges." Prowl responded, smirking.

"I don't remember agreeing to anything like that." Jazz commented wryly, tucking his head underneath Prowl's chin, nipping lightly at the tactician's neck before cuddling in more.

"Not my fault you have faulty memory banks." Prowl said, wrapping his arms around the bot currently using him as an oversized and under-stuffed earthian teddy bear. Jazz made some noncommittal sound and only snuggled in deeper. Prowl let a true smile tug at his lips at the movement and glanced down at the bot in his arms, optics offline and simply relaxing in his embrace.

Deciding to take a page out of the saboteur's book and relax a bit, Prowl took one more glance at the sky before he intended to temporarily offline his own optics.

Which was unfortunately the exact second that _something_ decided to fall from the sky and make a decent towards the earth. Battle computer running the math and noting that the velocity and temperature of the oncoming object indicated that it was indeed hurtling down through the atmosphere and that it would crash-land within the next few breems, Prowl shook Jazz off of him and quickly stood up, wide optics trained on the glowing red piece of _something_ that was slowly and steadily getting bigger with every astrosecond.

"Wa…? Prowler? What's tha'matter?" Jazz asked, his brief almost nap causing his accent to thicken. Prowl spared a moment to consider how adorable it made the saboteur before focusing on the matter at hand.

"There's…something's falling from the sky." Prowl said, optics once again training on the object. He quickly ran a few more equations and was both surprised and a little unnerved at the fact that the object had not only managed to reduce its speed but had also changed its course.

And was now aiming at_ them._

"What, like a falling star or somethin'?" Jazz asked before turning around and following his partner's gaze. His mouth fell open in a silent 'oh' as his optics grew wide behind his visor as the approaching ball of flame grew larger and larger as it slowly approached their resting place.

"I think it's safe to say that this is most defiantly an 'or something.' My guess is that it's some sort of spacecraft. One that's obviously out of control." Prowl replied softly. Though it had been initially somehow able to slow its descent, the supposed ship in question no longer appeared to hold that skill and was currently picking up speed once again—though now at a level where its impact would be fairly small for something that seemed to be turning out to be rather large.

"I'm not getting any readings off of it. It's not registering as either Autobot or Decepticon. Any idea what it is?" Jazz asked, now fully alert and beginning to coherently assess the situation.

"No idea. Though it looks like it's headed our way." Prowl added, though neither he nor the saboteur moved from their spot. Prowl figured that if the inhabitants of the ship had been able to slow their decent then they must have been able to set a course as well. Surely they would aim for the overwhelmingly large meadow rather than then for the small grassy mound hedged in on three sides by huge forest trees where the two mechs were standing. Whether they be friends or enemies, no one was idiotic enough to endanger their own lives by aiming so close to the forest line and risking impacting the trees in their landing.

"Call for backup?" Jazz asked, already reaching for his com-unit.

"Call for backup." Prowl confirmed. Jazz flipped open his communicator, quickly informing a terse Red Alert of the situation and after a brief "Proceed with caution and above all just _please_ be careful, you two." from the security director along with assurances that they'd be there in a few breems, he turned back to Prowl expectantly.

"What?" the tactician reproached with an arched optic ridge at the saboteur's expectant look.

"What do we do now, oh Second in Command?" Jazz questioned, smirking and leaning on one hip teasingly.

"Nothing much _to_ do but wait, you little glitch." Prowl responded, lips quirking up again.

Not that the wait was long. In less than another breem the ship landed, as Prowl had thought, in the spacious meadow, scorching the earth with an audio-fritzing bang and blowing steam everywhere as rapidly cooling metal impacted damp earth in a dizzying slide of crunching metal against mushy soil, the resulting skid mark left by something that would have to have been at least the size of the Ark.

Waving their hands to try and dispense some of the steam that obscured their vision, Prowl and Jazz hacked at their intakes, trying to dispel the smoke they had unintentionally taken in while hoping that the ringing in their audios was only temporary and wouldn't require a visit to the Hatchet's med-bay.

"Well…" Jazz coughed as the steam finally began to clear and he could once again see his fellow black and white mech.

"Well." Prowl agreed, his intakes giving one more sputter before clearing out the last of the noxious fumes.

"Shall we go play CSI, then?" Jazz asked, grinning at Prowl's put upon look. Ever since they managed to hotwire their TV to get basic cable, Jazz had immediately become obsessed with the show. Mostly just for the absurd plot twists and completely random clues, but at times the show could be amazingly informative about the underbelly of human society and Jazz was a saboteur through and through, this stuff was of the kind of things he needed to know—it was research! Argument made and frustratingly won against his mate's wishes, Jazz had even roped Prowl into watching a few episodes. Though the tactician couldn't help but point out every small mistake and obscure inconsistency and Jazz was quick to learn that perhaps forcing Prowl into something wasn't always the best idea when Jazz still wanted to enjoy that something.

So even though Prowl might not have approved of the term used to indicate their looking into the crash-landed ship, he nonetheless just settled for rolling his optics at the saboteur before leading the way into the still warm creator left at the end of the gigantic scar that cut it's way across the field.

Steam was still rising from the outside metallic layer of the ship, but still Prowl was able to recognize that the ship before him was one that he didn't really recognize. There were symbols covering the outside, but none even slightly resembled a language he could ever hope to have known how to read.

"Hey, Prowl…are you getting anything?" Jazz called over from a little ways to his right. The Porsche was also gazing at the symbols etched onto the side of the ship and seemed to be coming to the same lack of conclusions that Prowl was.

"Not a thing. I've never seen anything like this before…" Prowl said, lifting one hand up to scratch at a patch of dirt covering what appeared to be a intricate picture of a blue box. Though it was painfully obvious that the ship was in dire need of repair with panels missing here and there and gouges dug alarmingly deep into the mud and rust encrusted surface, the symbols on the outside of the ship were still surprisingly vibrant and unmarred. It spoke of great skill and Prowl could only wonder at the species that would put so much time and effort into the outside of a ship that would almost undoubtedly be systematically destroyed throughout its years of use.

"It's really quite beautiful, though." Jazz said as he came up to him. Prowl nodded his head in agreement, focusing more on the picture of the cube. It was the only geometrical object that Prowl could see and he could only wonder at the significance. Most of the other symbols on the ship were just squiggles and vague formations of lines, none as precise as this cube seemed to be.

"I wonder…" Prowl mused out loud. Optics focused on the tactician, Jazz could only shrug to himself at what Prowl might be talking about and kept silent. Not expecting any response, the tactician pressed lightly on the cube. When nothing happened, he pressed a bit harder until, with a groan of resisting metal, the cube disappeared into the ship. Stepping back and dragging Prowl a bit away as well, Jazz could only stare with wide optics as a previously inconspicuous panel slowly lowered itself towards the ground, the resulting opening flooding with residual steam from abused and partially melted gears forced into action.

If that was a shocker, however, the being that slowly limped painfully down the ramp was the mother of all surprises.

Prowl's battle computer had a second to comprehend that what he was seeing he couldn't possibly be seeing before, in a necessary act of saving itself from self-induced self-destruction, it shut down and regulated all necessary systems back to Prowl's CPU, leaving the tactician online though temporarily unable to either think or comprehend as quickly as usual.

Not that he was doing much of either, anyway. No, apparently staring at the creature slack-jawed and wide-opticed was the favored method of greeting at the moment.

Jazz had seen a lot of aliens. So had Prowl. But even then it couldn't prepare them for what was slowly reveled as the smoke drifted away. As Prowl's battle computer up and left him, Jazz reached to steady him as the tactician stumbled a bit though he couldn't tear his optics away from the creature stepping towards them on four very unsteady hooves.

Four very unsteady_ blue_ hooves. The only thing Jazz could think of was that this certainly ain't no cow. Rather it reminded him of those mythical or mystical or whatever creatures that Earthians called 'centaurs.' Except he somewhat recalled reading that centaurs weren't ever recorded to have been _blue_ and that most were especially thought to have _noses_ rather than just two sets of three vertical slits. Not to mention the eyes. Yes, he clearly and distinctly remembered that it had to have been mentioned somewhere that centaurs only had two eyes—not four, two of them perched on weird antenna thingies. _That moved_.

Not to mention the, y'know, fact that _it didn't have a freaking mouth_.

But what really freaked the two mechs out was the positively _wicked_ looking blade toping the _thing's _muscular tail and that, despite the fact they had freaking _laser_ weapons in their subspace and even though it was hanging listlessly, still worried them enough in that it looked like it could do an alarmingly fair amount of damage to even their metal plates.

"Wha—what—huh?!" Jazz stuttered out, leaning down to gaze at the creature while still keeping a _very_ safe distance.

The centaur-thing stumbled a bit and Jazz winced as he noticed the dried purplish liquid covering most of the creature's body. Leaky fluids, whatever the species, was _never_ a good sign.

/Where…where is this? Did we get away?/ The voice drifted through his processor and Jazz reeled back as a thought that _wasn't his_ floated through what he had previously thought to be territory reserved exclusively by his _own _(and occasionally Prowl's) thoughts.

"What the slag was that?!" Jazz screamed scrambling away from the unsteady _thing_. Prowl was right behind him, shaking his helm back and forth as if trying to physically force the intrusive thoughts from his head. Jazz, noticing the movement, noted that he wasn't the only one hearing voices. Which meant that he wasn't the _only_ crazy one here, at least.

/I am sorry./ And there it was again! It was like an internal communication line only with a distant hum that made it all the more surprising and personally invasive. Jazz and Prowl locked optics before resuming their mad scramble away from the pit-slagged ship and the blue-whatever-centaur-thing, aiming for the lip of the crater with thoughts of just waiting for backup to arrive before even attempting to _look_ back down here.

/Please wait! I didn't mean to scare you! I forgot that this might seem unusual to some people, it's been such a long time since I've been in control… / the voice in _his bloody head _paused for a second before continuing, and Jazz halted a bit, catching Prowl's arm as a desperate note, despite being _thought_ rather than_ said_, rang throughout the creature's statement /It's just that my…companions need help, the fight was a bad one./

"Jazz…" Prowl growled. Even with his battle computer off on a little vacation of its own he could still easily read the saboteur next to him. He was actually thinking about going back and _helping_ whatever that was.

"Come on, Prowl. If there's injured we've got to help." The visored mech replied. Not even threats of scary mind-reading aliens warranted that someone (or some_thing_) should die for no reason. Prowl, glowering at his mate, reluctantly nodded and the relatively calm mechs made their way cautiously back down the wall of the crater they had just scrambled up, stopping well enough away from the blue alien and his ship.

/Thank you./ the thing before them mind-spoke and Jazz and Prowl couldn't hold back the wince at the invasion once again. It was reminiscence of their internal communications, true, but it was still foreign enough to provoke serious feelings of distrust and unease. Prowl immediately went to work on constructing firewalls to cover all his sensitive information, he didn't know how far that thing could read into his head and if this all was just some kind of new Decepticon trick he certainly didn't want to make anything overly easy for them.

"Ri—right." Jazz said unsteadily, still unmoving. And then, even though it _didn't have a bloody mouth_, the creature managed to smile, and staggered a little to the side, leaving a clear path to the ramp in indication that the injured must still be inside the ship.

:This cannot be a good idea.: Prowl deprecatingly said over an _extremely_ secure inner communication line.

:Backup's on the way, right? I'll just go in, get the injured out, and then we can wait for Ratchet to take a look at 'em. Stay out here, just in case though, yes?: Jazz said before squaring his shoulders and taking small steps towards the ship, not giving Prowl any chance to object to his plan. Steadily (yet slowly) making his way towards the opening, he gave the watching alien a wide berth before stepping up the ramp and disappearing into the interior of the ship.

Prowl watched the blue creature warily, waiting for it to make any wrong move and to unsubspace his gun should his lover need any help. When Jazz didn't immediately reappear at the exit, Prowl could only assume that he must have had to go farther into the ship to find these so-called "injured comrades."

Or he was currently being captured and killed at this very moment by this thing's allies. Desperate to think of anything other than the possibility of this really just being some elaborate trap and that Jazz could be lying in a pool of his own energon at this very moment, Prowl turned his attention towards the greatest distraction he could find. Locking optic to eyes (the bottom two anyway, Prowl was trying his hardest to temporarily ignore the other two that kept twisting to look any which way on those _stalk_ things) Prowl voiced the his most prominent questions, "So who are you? Rather, _what_ are you?"

Gathering all four of his feet underneath him (Prowl had a second to bemusedly catch that he was standing at attention) the centaur-thing replied via the disturbing and rather obtrusive inner communications frequency that, for some reason, this _organic_ was somehow taping into /My name's…well, just call me Ax. I'm an Andalite./

'Huh,' Prowl thought, 'that's a new one.'

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Copout ending? Whatever do you mean? Right...I'm sure you've gotten that I've done the weirdest thing ever and mixed Transformers with _Animorphs_ of all things. Honestly, I think my friend is going to disown me for this one. If anyone's interested in timelines, Transformers is G1 and Animorphs is going to take off from the ending of the last book. I'm a little rusty with Animorphs, though, so I beg you to bear with me and my seemingly n00bish mistakes that I might be prone to making. And as for Animorphs pairings? Also up in the air. Any suggestions would be welcome, actually.

Thank you for reading and it would mean the world to me if you would be so kind as to leave me a review. Constructive criticism, as ever, is always more than welcome.


	2. The Return of the Andalite

Well...it's certainly been a while, huh? My apologies, I just can't seem to use my time wisely. Le sigh. If my time here at Fanfiction has taught me anything, it's taught me that I need to learn how to manage my time SO much better.

Thank you again to all of you who reviewed, it was quite the pleasant surprise! It was entirely for you guys that I got ANY of this done at all. A special thanks to i-love-me-some-leggypoo who was kind enough to tell me what ideas I had that sucked and what ideas I had that might have a chance at working and who also played a major role in this chapter coming out at ALL. And just because she's awesome and deserves more thanks, I'm also going to throw out Kesera's name. She's helped keep me sane throughout all of this fanfiction-ness and I don't know where ANY of these stories would be without her.

Once again, thank you to EVERYONE and I hope this second part will live up to your expectations.

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The thick outer walls of the Ark sluggishly opened up as the small group approached. This could have been because of the complex gears and mechanisms that were used in the process of pulling open the rather large metallic doors, but Jazz couldn't help but think it had more to do with the resident Security Director's distaste for the situation being vicariously expressed through the large pieces of metal.

"Red is _not_ a happy camper." Hound mumbled to Jazz's left. The saboteur let out a small snicker of agreement. The minute Red Alert had heard they were bringing in four unidentified humans, he had a small nervous breakdown. Once he heard about the hawk, he had blown a gasket.

When he heard about the "andalite," however, he had all about sparked himself into a panicked oblivion.

But really, what were they supposed to do? _Leave_ the Andalite there or something?

Ratchet and the group of mechs sent as backup had arrived just as Jazz had finished fishing out the last of the…blue-centaur-thing's companions—a red tailed _hawk_ of all things. At first Jazz hadn't known what to make of the animal, he had just thought humans kept birds as pets, if anything, but when he had shown up with just the four humans the self-proclaimed Ax had all but demanded that he search for the last of his teammates.

In the nicest way possible, however. Jazz couldn't help but smile slightly at the memory—the Andalite was quite possibly one of the most polite organics he had ever come across and it almost slightly made up for the irritating "thought speak" that the Andalite used to communicate.

Almost.

The only time throughout the whole ordeal that Jazz could even remember the unflappable Andalite showing something other than complete and utter graciousness, however, was when Jazz had taken out one of the humans from the ship—the Andalite had gone into what Jazz could only guess must be his species version of shock or something. All four of his eyes had swiveled to lock on the diminutive figure in the black and white's arms and Jazz had seen Prowl taken a warning step forward at the sudden intense motion.

"Something…wrong there, friend?" Jazz asked hesitantly, stressing the last word in attempt to let the alien know that there was absolutely _no_ reason for that tail blade to start swinging.

/No…nothing./ The Andalite had said slowly, but Jazz could still make out the undertones of incredulity and absolute elation within the mind-spoken words. Taking a second to glance at the blonde girl in his arms, Jazz couldn't quite grasp what all the fuss was about—the girl wasn't even that banged up considering the shape all the others had been in when he'd pulled them out.

"What's the hold up?! I've got to get these humans in _sometime_!" Shocked back out of his musings, Jazz stuttered a few steps forward with the help of the gentle prodding of Ratchet's voice, stumbling through the finally opened doors and clearing the way for the troop of Autobots trailing after him to enter the base. Despite the fact that his Battle Computer had yet to come back online, Prowl was still able to calculate that pretending to not notice his usually nimble lover's stumble would be the best course of action, though he couldn't hold back the slight quirk of his upper lip when his optics met the saboteur's visor.

"Laugh it up, Prowler." Jazz said, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting out one hip. Prowl just shrugged and passed the all but pouting mech, his much smaller charge following in his wake. Once Ax had been checked over and his wounds bandaged, he had been assigned to be supervised by Prowl and Jazz until Optimus Prime could completely consider the situation and decide what to do with him.

/Will my friends be alright with that…medic?/ the thought-speak was so sudden that Jazz had failed to prepare himself for the slight intrusion and he couldn't hold back his grimace, though he had enough sense of mind to turn his face away before the Andalite could notice.

"They'll be fine, Ratchet is quite possibly the best Medic for the situation." Prowl said softly, sparing a moment for the agonizing thought that his lack of Battle Computer meant that he couldn't follow that up with any kind of percentages or statistics. Jazz was slightly irked to notice that nothing had showed on Prowl's faceplates at the mind-speak's intrustion, even though he had _felt_ the tactician's strong distaste through their lightly closed bond. A bond that was lightly closed just for that reason—being able to hear each other's thoughts and feel each other's emotions was great, but they had been quick to realize that the constant stream of emotional data from each other had just been to distracting. Prowl wasn't used to Jazz's constant thoughts and overwhelming emotions and Jazz was anything but used to Prowl's carefully organized thoughts and tightly controlled emotions.

"Even though he's used to working on machines, he's had enough human patients to know how to handle 'em. Don't you worry about a thing, Ax-man." Jazz said, stepping away from the doors and fully into the corridor, watching as the tail-end of the search party slipped around a corner, Ironhide's red car-form slowly fading from sight as he took precautions not to jostle his human cargo.

/What?/ Ax asked sharply.

Broken out of the until then peaceful exchange, it was all Jazz could do to attempt to placate the organic, "Ah, sorry about that. I didn't mean to offend." He said, holding up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the sudden tension in the room. Prowl glanced at the organic by his feet, taking stock of his suddenly aware posture and trying to mentally prepare his next step should the situation proceed to get ugly.

All at once, however, the tension drained from the Andalite's body, /No, it's fine. Just…it's been a while since I've heard that nickname./

"No worries there, I'll just…call you Ax, then, if that's okay." Jazz said carefully while lowering his hands.

/Thank you, it's just that—/

"Jazz, Prowl! I heard you found yourselves an alien!" the voice was sudden and intrusive, managing to cut straight through Ax's thought speak as it drew the attention of the two mechs as well as the organic.

"Sideswipe. Sunstreaker." Prowl said curtly as the twins rounded their way towards them.

"Hey, what's up you two?" Jazz said loudly, cautiously edging his way around the squishable alien by his feet to stand closer to the two grinning Lamborghinis.

"Aw, you know us, Jazz! How could we _ever_ be up to anything?" Sideswipe answered back.

"Yes, how could you be indeed." Prowl said dryly.

"Is that the alien?" Sunstreaker asked suddenly, pointing down at the until then silent Ax.

"Yes—this is Ax. He's an Andalite." Prowl said, unnecessarily indicating the Andalite at his feet with a quick wave of his hand.

"Andalite? What's that?" Sideswipe asked while cocking his head to the side in inquisition.

Sunstreaker thumped his brother over the head, "Take a look and you'll find out, slag-head."

"Ow!" Sideswipe wined, socking his brother in the shoulder in retaliation, but nonetheless he did as his brother suggested and focused his attention on the four-legged alien before him.

Suddenly finding himself as the sole occupier of four mech's complete and utter attention, Ax could only lift his eyes in a small smile, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof in nervousness as the mechs continued to do nothing but stare at him.

"Huh." Sideswipe said after a while, "This will certainly prove to be interesting. See ya later, Jazz! Bye, copper! Bye, Ax the Andalite!" he said merrily before skipping down the hallway.

Backwards.

Sighing at the complete and utter lack of propriety that the mech seemed to have (as well as at the planned mischief that Prowl could all but _see_ starting to bubble in Sideswipe's CPU), Prowl could only watch in resignation as the red form flew around a turn in the hallway, his yellow twin following at a more sedate, forwards walking pace. With a small and unenthusiastic backwards wave, Sunstreaker also disappeared from behind the corner.

"I shudder to think that those two might be up to, eh Prowler?" Jazz said from Prowl's right. Prowl had the sudden urge to knock his head against the nearest wall as he could plainly hear the note of poorly disguised humor in his mate's tone.

"Jazz…" Prowl started to warn, flashing the 3IC a warning glare.

"What? I haven't even done anything!" the saboteur exclaimed wildly as he once again threw up his hands in an effort to prove how innocent he was.

Right. Like his innocence still even _existed_.

"No, but you're thinking about helping them do whatever it is that _they've_ planned on doing." Prowl said—it was a statement of fact. The saboteur just shrugged, completely unapologetic.

"Probably. But come on! It'll be fun!" Jazz said with a huge smile. Prowl was about to berate him more when a voice that could only come from the Andalite next to him sounded through his CPU. With Sideswipe's arrival he had almost completely forgotten that they were still in the process of escorting the alien to the med bay to see his comrades.

When Ratchet, Hound, Ironhide, Inferno, and Bluestreak had arrived at the crash site, Ratchet had instantly gone to the Andalite while the others had gone to inspect the ship and see if any of the humans had needed immediate medical attention. Though he had never before encountered any species quite like the alien before him, Ratchet nonetheless had attempted to bandage and heal what he could. Upon his inspection, the Andalite appeared to be in better condition then he looked, most of the blood covering his body coming from only two major wounds near the sides of his head. Once he had been taken care of, Ratchet declared him fine if only for want of a bit of bed rest (an assumption the medic considered he was perfectly within his rights to make, surely this species _slept_) and went off to load half of the unconscious humans into his vehicle mode while Ironhide took the other half and hawk.

The alien's intruding almost-com speak, however was enough to bring their journey back to the forefront of his thoughts as it all but crawled through his Central Processing Unit.

/How can he do that?/ the voice questioned.

Pushing down his automatic dislike for the intrusion, Prowl attempted to respond normally to the inquiry. Out of the corner of his optics he could see Jazz attempt to control his own cringe as the words echoed in his CPU as well.

"Do what?" Prowl asked once he had carefully schooled himself, turning to stare down at the smaller being.

/Walk backwards so steadily./ the voice continued. Prowl was pleased to say that he only slightly internally flinched at the mental message and he felt confident that, just like in every other circumstance, he could eventually adapt to this.

"I suppose it comes from practice." The saboteur behind him commented, his natural ability to adapt also buoying him in this time when the skill was so desperately needed.

/But…he only has two legs! I never could understand how humans manage it. With just two legs, how can they at all hope to stay balanced?/ From Jazz's side of their bond, Prowl felt an abnormally strong sense of emotion flare. Incredulity suffused with a bit of shock and hurried self explanations of "center of balance" were momentarily pushed down the bond before Jazz realized he had been projecting and embarrassedly shut it off.

"It's got to do with where their center of balance is placed and all—" Jazz started to explain but Prowl interrupted him.

"I think I might have to agree with you." Prowl said calmly, seeming not to care about the shocked look it earned him from his lover. While Jazz could only see the question as an amazingly bizarre one, Prowl could see the logic behind it. Center of gravity or no center of gravity—mechs or humans or, apparently, aliens with two legs alike had always puzzled his circuits. Jazz with two legs himself had obviously never wondered over the question, just taking it for granted. Prowl, however, had the benefit of doorwings to keep himself balanced and he had often wondered at his teammate's seemingly unnatural ability to stand up straight and actually _walk_ with nothing but two wobbly leg supports to help them do so.

/Ah, yes. Those…wings of yours I can understand. They undoubtedly stabilize you, but what of the others?/ the strange creature before him asked and Prowl noted that he stood steady on the four legs of his own.

"A question that I _still _don't understand. They even manage to _jump_, but every time they do—"

/You feel the need to catch them because _surely_ they must fall!/ Ax said below him, eagerly finishing his thought. Prowl's doorwings twitched in excitement at finding such a kindred spirit and he hardly even noticed the intrusion of the alien's mind speak anymore.

"As fun as _I_ find this conversation, kids, perhaps we could continue this on the run? Y'know, walk _and_ talk?" Jazz said dryly from behind Prowl. The tactician absentmindedly nodded and slowly started down the hallway and towards the medbay, keeping up a surprisingly steady conversation with the much smaller alien next to him, the saboteur following behind and shaking his head in disbelief at the sight he followed.

"And then when they get it into their minds to _bend down_ it's a wonder that they don't just tip over…!"

* * *

Though Jazz found it adorable that Prowl had found such a bosom-confidante to share his previously stifled feelings concerning the particulars of a mech/human/whatever's ability to manage to balance on only two legs, he couldn't help but shuffle his vents in relief when the med-bay doors came into view. His relief might not have been quite as sparkfelt if it hadn't been for the fact that throughout the entire journey from the front doors to here, Prowl and his new-found organic friend insisted that he be their "test-model" and had forced him to walk around so that they could critique and criticize the movement.

As they crossed the threshold and stepped into the medbay, however, Prowl's comm-unit beeped, interrupting the continued conversation he was still having with the Andalite. Flipping open his communicator, Prowl inquired about the summons.

"Prowl? Is Jazz with you?" The voice of Optimus Prime drifted from Prowl's comm-device and Jazz perked up at the sound.

"Yes Optimus, he's here."

"Good, I need the both of you in my office immediately."

Jazz and Prowl shared a small look of concern, "But Prime, what about the…ah, Andalite?"

"See if Ratchet can watch him, this is a matter of some urgency."

"Understood, we'll be there shortly." Prowl said before closing the communications line and shooting Jazz another look.

"Hey Ratch-man, would you mind watching him for us?" Jazz asked, already halfway out the door. Prowl shot his mate an irritated glare before throwing an apologetic glance at the medic while, with a goodbye twitch of his doorwings to both the medic and the organic he was leaving behind, he followed his mate out the medbay doors and towards Prime's office.

"Not like I have much of a choice, eh?" the medic grumbled before running another test on one of the still unconscious humans before him. She was blonde and, he supposed, rather pretty by human standards. And just like the others, despite being in a comatose state and a few cuts and bruises, nothing major seemed to be wrong with her—certainly nothing enough to suggest the reason for the unconscious behavior.

/Is she okay?/ the voice pierced straight to his processor and Ratchet couldn't stop his shudder at the invasion of privacy.

"She's…fine." He said slowly and attempted to recalibrate himself. He had felt a brief taste of the alien's mode of speech back by the crater, but that small sample was still not enough to prepare him for it when he was caught off-guard.

/That's good. She's…well, she's really supposed to be dead./ Ax was careful to keep his main eyes on anything _but _Ratchet as he said this, though he did focus one stalk eye on the relatively larger mech.

"Excuse me? Run that by me one more time?" Ratchet was a tad irritated. His scanners showed that the woman was in almost perfect health and his scanners _did not_ lie.

/She had sacrificed herself for our cause long before the final battle. I…did not know she was even on the ship until she was pulled out along with the others./ Ax focused his main eyes onto the girl on the operating table as he said this, walking a few feet to stand on the opposite side of the medic. Ratchet was absolutely positive that, despite the fact his voice wasn't vocal, it had still managed to break with emotion.

"I am sorry." Ratchet said softly. It had been a long while since their team had lost a teammate, but he could still remember the blinding, white-hot pain of loss back before earth and before he was the accomplished medic that he was today.

/Thank you for that. But still, she is here now and, as you say, in perfect health. This makes me…unbearably happy./ Ax reached out a delicate hand and tenderly brushed a stray bang out of the girl's closed eyes.

"Was she…just a teammate?" Ratchet asked after a moment. It might have been too personal, he'd concede that, but after a move like that the curiosity would drive him absolutely crazy if he didn't find out.

/More?/ Ax asked and (Ratchet didn't exactly know _how_) his face contorted into puzzlement before realization seemed to dawn and all four of his eyes swiveled to focus on the suddenly uncomfortable mech, /No. No we weren't. She had somebody else and they are both to dear to me that I would never even consider the thought of getting between them. Besides, blondes aren't my type./

And it could have been that Ratchet was just imagining things because of his overwhelmingly embarrassed logic circuits, but he could have sworn that the alien's right…eye-thingie had swiveled to briefly glance at the brown haired youth on the next table over. "Right," Ratchet stammered and he felt a brief flare of indignation that someone would _dare_ make him uncomfortable in _his_ medbay, but in the spirit of it being his own slaging fault, he chose to ignore the impulse, "Sorry about that."

/It's fine, don't worry about it./ Ax assured him and Ratchet realized that his CPU had slowly become accustomed to receiving the strange almost com-speak and now barely even noticed the intrusion.

After a few moments and a few more scans, Ratchet moved onto his first avian patient ever. Another few moments passed by and Ratchet just couldn't take the silence anymore. Normally it wasn't a problem, but with the strange creature's eyes swiveling this way and that, Ratchet just couldn't take it a second longer, "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, the human idiom falling from his lips after a quick web search for appropriate human sayings in cases like these.

/Pardon?/ Ax questioned, swiveling one stalk eye to face the red and white mech along with both his main eyes.

Of course, in hindsight, Ratchet realized that "human" idioms might not be such a good idea when dealing with _other_ aliens, "I'm sorry, it's just a human saying for asking what you were thinking about."

/Ah/ Ax replied, /How strange. In all my years with humans I have never really understood their strange sayings. Like a pot and a kettle can not talk, so why would they be calling each other "black"?/

Taking a moment to consider this, Ratchet found himself agreeing with this strange being. Sure, he could instantaneously look up the definition for any human saying that he might find himself hearing, but that still did not detract from the utter randomness that they seemed to be formed from, "And when you are asked to 'take it with a grain of salt' there's never any actual salt to be had!"

At the medic's addition, Ax nodded his head in enthusiastic agreement, all four of his eyes now focused on the Autobot, /Or when they say "get off your high horse" the people are never _actually_ on a horse to begin with!/

Firing back another response concerning the seeming arbitrary and nonsensical things that human sayings seemed to be based on, Ratchet thought that maybe this alien guy wasn't that bad after all.

* * *

When Jake awoke, he thought for sure it would be to either blistering and ear-popping dracon beam fire or the silent and calm white walls of a hospital.

He got the white walls, anyway. Never the mind that they were about twenty times larger than he thought they should be, but at least the white walls were there.

The expected silence, however, seemed to be missing.

"…or 'get off your soap box'! They're not _on_ boxes of soap, and _still_ they ask people to get off them!"

Blinking at the ceiling that seemed _way_ to far away from him to be normal, Jake could only wonder at what was talking. It didn't sound human, so it had to be alien, but it didn't sound like anything he had heard before.

"Aren't they adorable?" A voice to the left of him asked. _That _was a voice he most assuredly recognized, however. Whipping his head around, he hardly even noticed his neck crying out in pain as he focused on the grinning face of his best friend.

"Marco?" Jake asked, his throat scratchy and dry.

"The one and only." He said back cheekily. The Mexican man seemed to be lying on his front rather than on his back like Jake was and had his head twisted up so that he could see the sight that was happening at the head of their…beds? examination tables? metal desks?

"What happened?" Jake asked as he continued to move his neck back and forth, attempting to ease the ache in the muscles.

"The hell if I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about surviving, but by my counts we all should be dead. Especially, if not cynically, _her_." Marco said, moving his eyes in an indication of the bed to his other side.

Sitting up precariously on an elbow, Jake looked around the reclining form of his friend and gazed at what could only be a dream lying down, peacefully sleeping one table over.

_Rachel_.

That was all kinds of _impossible_.

"_What?!_" Jake questioned breathlessly, his eyes glued on the _breathing_ form before him. It had to be a trick. Somebody had morphed her and…and…and…!

"I know, right? But something's seriously up, dude. I thought for sure it had to be a trick, but then I saw who our resident alien was arguing with and I figured anything's possible now." Marco said nonchalantly. His attitude didn't fool Jake, however. They'd been friends since before they could talk and Jake _knew _that this was just Marco's way of temporarily dealing with things. Give him another day or two when things started to make sense again and he'd be crying his heart out.

Which broke everyone _else's_ every time he pulled this dumb repressing crap.

"Marco…" Jake started to warn but Marco just rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb at what he had been staring at before Jake had woken up.

"Yeah, yeah, the whole 'deal with your feelings crap.' But before you start in on me, take a look over there, yeah? So far you're the second one to awaken from the deep sleep so you get to be the second one to witness _this_ weirder than weird sight." Marco said with a slight eye roll.

Sighing in exasperation, Jake nonetheless turned towards where Marco had indicated.

And stopped dead.

Eyes once again going impossibly wide, Jake couldn't quite believe the scene before him. There was Ax's more familiar alien Andalite form arguing with a…with a…

Freaking _giant robot._

Well. That certainly changed things.

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* * *

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Right, ah, I hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit. Once again, I can't promise when the next installment of this will be up as I need to desperately focus more on Knock on Wood because it has been SO not getting the attention it deserves from me. For the record, the pairings of Animorphs are more or less decided: Marco/Ax, Tobais/Rachel, and...Jake and Cassie are still up in the air. I'm tempted to just throw them together and make it all nice and organized, but I REALLY didn't particularly care for Cassie's character at the end of the last book, so I don't know if I could stomach pairing her up with Jake. Any suggestions concerning those two would be much appreciated.

Thanks again for reading and please fell free to tell me what you thought about it!


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